


Kintsugi

by Liv_andletdie



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Scars, Self-Hatred, description of violence, nothing is shown only hinted at, people talking about how they feel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 05:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18772132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liv_andletdie/pseuds/Liv_andletdie
Summary: kintsugi (Noun) To repair with gold; The art of repairing metal with gold or silver lacquer and understanding that the piece is more beautiful for having been broken."The Hero of Twilight wasn't unfamiliar with scars; nor was he ashamed"





	Kintsugi

_Dedicated to Matt, the coolest nerd, and Gigi, the most loving person I’ve ever met. Without you two this wouldn’t be possible._

<><><>

The Hero of Twilight wasn’t unfamiliar with scars. He had earned his fair share over the years. Accidents from his training with Rusl, burns from a campfire, souvenirs from an overly excitable goat. His skin told the story of a life well lived long before he ever donned the Hero’s green. 

He wasn’t unfamiliar with scars; nor was he ashamed. 

Each scar was a lesson learned. The nick on his shoulder taught him to keep his guard up, the burns on his arms told him to be mindful of flames, and the crescent moons on his side reminded him to be more aware of his surroundings (and the power of a goat’s kick). 

The lessons had grown deeper as he set out on his journey. Bite marks across his torso taught him to be weary of Deku Babas, crosshatches over his shoulder blades taught him not to underestimate a Bokoblin, and claw marks over his legs warned him to be mindful of Wolfos in the snow. 

To say he was proud of his scars would be an overstatement. He certainly didn’t carry any strong feelings concerning the marks that littered his skin, good or bad. They were simply reminders. 

Ilia had seemed worried when she first saw his new scars. Shaking fingers hovering in the air over his skin, tears welling up in her mournful eyes. Even years after, he could still remember the way her voice shook, heart break present in every syllable. 

“Does it hurt?” 

_Not anymore,_ he’d told her, mostly to spare his friend any more heartache. 

That was, perhaps, the only aspect of his scars that troubled him: they changed the way people saw him. Strangers in the pub cowered when he passed, trainees in the yard spun myths about him, and loved ones cried hidden tears at the idea of him in pain. Uli, Ilia, Rusl... they all looked upon his flesh with a strange mixture of disgust, grief, and pity. 

Zelda however… 

She was different. She carried a curiosity in her that the goat herder turned hero couldn’t help but admire. No question was asked without thought, each lingering stare was calculating, as if he was a difficult puzzle she was determined to solve. 

She had noticed the marks on his neck first. The cruel corner of a Redead’s fatal kiss, peeking out over the top of his starched collar. 

The southern heat had finally made its way up north, filling the streets of the city with a thick fog of perfume. The myriad of scents from the vendor's stalls mixed with the stench of the alleyways. To combat the near oppressive heat, Link had taken to pushing his shirt sleeves up and pulling his collar down. Normally such a brazen display of skin would be frowned upon, but in the stables, under shady awnings, no one seemed to care. Not even the Queen. 

And that’s how she found it, her eyes tracing over the mark on his neck, almost burning a hole in his shirt with their intensity. 

“I hope you don’t think me rude,” She began, her hand dropping from her stallion’s side as she handed him off to a stable hand. “But how did you get that?” 

It was a question he was used to answering. Many men and women had shoved pointing fingers in his face, or prodded sharply at his body. He had no issue with it, curiosity was healthy after all. And anyone brave or reckless enough to get that close to him deserved some kind of reward. Usually he spun them some tall tale, the stories ranging between anything from a particularly vicious farm animal to a scorned ex lover. It didn’t matter what lies he told, he was unlikely to ever see them again. 

But Zelda deserved the truth. 

“Redead.” 

He could tell by the look in her eyes that no more detail was necessary. Her brow furrowed in understanding, lips twisted into a slight frown. 

“It looks deep. It’s a miracle you’re still standing.” 

They both knew she meant more than she said, though neither said anything else. 

<><><>

She saw the scar on his arm second. Harsh white skin wrapped over his wrist, curling under the cuff of his shirt. 

He’d tried to dress smartly for the occasion, new shirt, new doublet, same old brown brown boots shined up to perfection. After all, image was everything to the Royal Court. He could tell as much from the sea of silks and taffeta that flooded the dance floor. Swirling cyclones made of elegant fabrics that threatened to pull him under and drown him beneath waves of ruffles. Glittering jewels reflecting like stars in a storm against the candlelight. Voices crying out, fake laughter melting into screams. 

It was all a bit too much for him. 

He found himself on the terrace, the cold wind biting at ears, the rough stone of the balustrade pressed against the palms of his hands, new cotton gloves tucked under his arm. It was silent, and he liked the silence. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten here. Perhaps he’d ran? Perhaps he’d snuck out when no one was looking? Or maybe he had appeared here through sheer force of will? Either way it didn’t matter, the terrace was silent nonetheless. 

However silence was as fragile as glass - shattered by a touch. Or the voice of a friend. 

“Got out while you still could, I see.” 

Zelda stood behind him, silver moonlight shining down on her like a spot. Everything else fading into darkness around her. 

“I like the quiet,” Link mused. “Helps me think.” 

She stepped closer, the soft swish of her skirts seemed to echo across the space between them. The smallest sounds turned into a cacophony by the relative quiet they shared. He let his eyes leave her, focusing on the stars above him. Each spec of light so far away yet still so tantalisingly close. As if he could reach out and take them in his hands. 

“They’re beautiful,” She sighed, leaning against the balustrade, head tilted back, long brown hair falling over her shoulders in a cascade. The silver of her jewellery catching the light of the ballroom. And though she stood an arms length away, she seemed lost to a different world as she spoke. 

“I wish I were closer to them.” 

She didn’t seem to be looking for a response, lost in her own thoughts as she was, so Link let her be, his own eyes tracing a path back home. He’d learnt to read the stars from a young age, to search the sky and plot a course to safety through ink black woods. If he was ever lost, all he had to do was look up. 

“Link,” her voice was soft, wrapping around his shoulders like silk. “Can I ask you a question?” 

“You’re the Queen, you don’t gotta ask my permission for anything.” 

She didn’t seem to like that response. 

“How did you get that scar on your wrist?” 

Tearing his gaze from heavenly bodies to his own mortal hands, he glared at the scar in question. It had been a clean incision. Not enough to end him, but enough to cause worry. Enough to make it difficult to swing a sword. 

“Bokoblin.” he grumbled. “Little shit got a lucky hit on me. Too bad for him I’ve always been a little luckier.” 

She reached for him then. Silk covered fingers lingering in the space between them, so close yet oh so far. They hung there, in that moment, for what felt like a decade before her hand slowly curled over his wrist. The soft fabric covering her thumb catching on the rough broken skin. 

“I shall pray that your luck does not run out,” she breathed and Link noticed just how close they had gotten. The air between them growing warm, puffs of white breath dancing above their heads. The kindness in her voice made his chest ache in the strangest of ways. And as she shifted her weight to stand taller beside him, he couldn’t help but stare at her. 

Her hair, so soft, growing tangled in the light evening breeze. Her cheeks, flushed pink from the cold. The candlelight of the ballroom, caressing the apple of her cheeks as a lover would. The moonlight, dancing in her Royal blue eyes. _Have they always been so blue?_. He wondered, transfixed by how they shined brighter than the diamonds wrapped tightly around her throat, brighter than the guiding stars above. 

And, before he could find the words to thank her for her prayers, she was gone. Disappearing into the hurricane and leaving him alone on the silent terrace once more. 

He hated the silence. 

<><><>

The third time she asked about a scar they were in Ordon, spring flowers all in bloom. A country retreat for an exhausted monarch. 

He had taken to wearing more casual clothes whilst in the village. After all, there was no one around who could possibly judge him. No stuffy nobles to look down on him. No stuck up dukes to frown at the technicolour patches in his trousers. No countesses to sneer at the fast repair jobs to a well loved shirt. Only Zelda. And, quite frankly, he trusted her to keep any opinion of that ilk to herself. 

They lay in the field, watching the goats graze. The warm spring sun beating down against their skin. Zelda had mentioned before how she enjoyed the season, watching the rebirth of life after winter. An ever turning wheel, nothing ever truly being lost. It was a beautiful sentiment. 

Zelda could find beauty in anything. An enviable trait, really. 

“How do you do it?” he’d asked one night over supper. She’d simply shrugged, finished the last of her wine and smiled. 

“You just have to know where to look I suppose.” 

Since then he had been looking, gazing at everything. He’d look to the flowers in the gardens, to the fish in the stream, to the clouds in the sky. But nothing ever compared to that pair of blue eyes on the terrace, or the soft flush of pink cheeks lit by candlelight. 

He was drawn out of his musing by a soft fingertip grazing against his shin. 

Zelda lay with her head in his lap, brown hair pulled back into a braid which snaked over her shoulders. From this angle he couldn’t see her face, something that both saddened and comforted him. 

Saddened in the sense that a moment without her charming smile was a moment wasted. Comforted in the sense that he couldn’t see the pained look in her eyes as she fixated on the twisted flesh of his leg. 

They’d grown closer over the past few months. Tentative meetings in the hallways turning to afternoon tea for two. Quick lunches surrounded by company becoming private late night suppers. Goodbyes growing more and more difficult. Hellos growing more and more joyus. 

As such, they’d come to know each other quite well. 

He’d learnt of her love of cakes, her passion for the theatre, her dry wit, and her constant desire to help people. He’d come to know that the marks on his skin bothered her somewhat, a fact which caused his insides to twist as if he’d been run through with a lance. 

Dragging himself back to the present once more (since when did he get distracted so easily?) he brought his hand to the back of her neck, fingers playing with the fine hairs there. Her long ear twitching slightly at the sensation. 

“It weren’t anything serious,” he murmured, voice dropping low enough so only she could hear. “Just a dumb mistake I made as a kid.” 

Her fingers halted in their path along his scar and he took it as a sign to continue. 

“I was playing by the creek, slipped on the rocks and tore up my leg something awful. Hurt like a bitch, but I was able to walk it off.” 

Zelda let out a short breath, her palm pressing against his shin, warm fingers wrapping around the muscles of his calf. 

“I would have expected fancier footwork from the man who bested the Demon King in single combat.” 

He could practically hear her smirk in her voice. 

“I was only eight, cut me some slack,” her griped softly, too comfortable to hold any real malice. “My footwork has only gotten fancier since then, I assure you.” 

She shifted then, lying on her back to face him, a lazy smile curled over her lips. 

“I am truly glad to hear it.” 

<><><>

The fourth time she asked about a scar it caught him by surprise. 

Privacy was a near luxury in the castle. Schedules filled with appointments and meetings and training and lessons and parties and plays and luncheons and dinners and secret suppers and late night talks left very little time to just relax. To stop. To compose your thoughts. To work out stressed and worries. To curl in on yourself and block out the world for a moment. To recharge. 

That was why Link found himself here. Late at night, in the training arena. Alone. The straw-filled dummies his only company, the sounds of polished steel against wood the only symphony. 

It had become a habit for him. When the days were too long and his mind too full of thoughts to rest, he would sneak into the arena and train. Train until his thoughts were clear and his body exhausted. Running through practice drills he had long since perfected, the repetitive motions as soothing as they were tiring. 

Taking a seat on the bench to rest for a moment, he pulled his shirt off over his head. The fine linen, soaked with sweat, clung to his back uncomfortably like a second skin. 

It was getting late. The sun would no doubt rise soon, painting the sky in greys and pinks as she arrived. But as beautiful as the dawn was, Link didn’t fancy staying up to greet her. Pressing his face into the damp fabric of his shirt, he attempted to wipe the sweat from his brow. He wished he could lull himself into exhaustion. He’d been at this for hours. And, while his body now craved rest, his mind still raced. Brown hair in a braid and royal blue eyes swimming in his vision everytime he blinked. 

“I’m so sorry,” a voice called out, her tone achingly familiar. “I hadn’t expected anyone else to be up at this hour, I… oh… Link?” Draping his shirt around his neck, he twisted his head to look at her. 

Zelda stood, partially hidden by shadow. She looked embarrassed, like a child caught doing something that they shouldn’t be. 

“S’alright, I can go if you’re looking for some privacy.” He started to stand, but her outstretched hand stopped him in his tracks. 

“No! I’d hate for you to leave on my account.” 

“I was practically done here anyway, Zelda.” A lie. “It’s no bother.” She seemed to deflate slightly, eyes dropping to the ground as she wrung her hands in front of her. “Or I can stay. If you want the company, that is?” 

Despite the distance between them, Link swore he saw her cheeks flush pink. A small “thank you” tumbling from her lips, tripping over her shy smile. And, not for the first time, he cursed the silver moon for not being bright enough. For not allowing him a glimpse of his Queen as she shifted around in shadows. _Why is she so far away?_

“So,” Zelda started, trying to break the silence that had grown between them. “What brings you out here at such an hour as this?” 

“I could ask you the same thing. If you must know, I was practicing my fancy footwork.” He felt his heart skip at the sound of her soft laughter. Barely concealed giggles echoing around the empty arena. 

“I wasn’t aware my teasing had such an effect,” she chuckled, arms pulling her robes tighter. “I’ll be more mindful in the future.” 

“Don’t change on my account.” He smiled, cheeks heating slightly. “I like you just the way you are.” 

He wished he was closer to her. Wished he could watch as her cheeks flushed and her eyes widened. Blue shining like sapphires in the stars. Wished he could hear her clearly as she mumbled back, “I like you too.” 

Patting the seat next to him, he fixed her with a questioning gaze. His invitation silent but clear. 

“I wouldn’t want to impose-” 

“It ain’t an imposition if I’m offering,” He cut in, hoping that he didn’t come across as pushy or rude. He didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable when she was already upset about something. 

Zelda stayed silent for a moment, her eyes distant in thought. She looked like she was weighing pros and cons, or maybe she was trying to find a polite way to reject him. Bracing himself for the worst, he was pleasantly surprised when she took the space beside him. Her body pressed against his, the cold silk of her robe biting against his bare arm. 

In the light of the torches he could see her more clearly. The nightgown she wore, a soft shade of pink, that fell down to her mid calf. Her legs were covered by a pair of warm, brown britches. Her robe was pulled high over her shoulders, covering her collar, Her hair, left long and loose, fell like a curtain in front of her face. 

“You cold?” he asked, nodding his head to her unusual attire. The summer had long since come and gone, the heat of the days making way for the chill night winds. 

“Something like that.” 

Link didn’t push for an elaboration. He knew Zelda well enough by now to know that she’d give him one if she wanted. 

The silence between them grew, but Link found that he didn’t mind. He enjoyed just being with her, sitting with her, watching the stars pass by. Her head resting on his shoulder, her hair draping over his skin as soft as silk. 

“Don’t think I didn’t notice the scars on your back,” she warned, low voice shattering the silence around them. “The claw marks are particularly worrying.” 

Link had almost forgotten about those. The memory of their creation foggy and blurred with pain. It hadn’t been pretty. 

“They’re nothing.” he lied, shifting to take her hand in his. He felt her breath catch slightly, the sound causing his heart to skip, as he wrapped her arm around his back. Pressing her fingertips to the long white scars that ran down the back of his ribs. Her hand felt like ice against his sweaty skin, but he grit his teeth and bore it. “I didn’t keep my eyes out is all. Wolfos got a lucky hit. It looks worse than it really is. It’s just a flesh wound. Honest.” 

He wasn’t sure why, but he felt the need to comfort her. To show that the marks didn’t hurt him as much as she feared. To desperately put her mine at ease. 

“I wish you weren’t so reckless,” She sighed. Her touch grew warmer, her palm running circles over his back, her lips pressed against his shoulder. She was hypnotic, and Link found himself relaxing into her with every beat of his heart. 

“And I wish you’d kiss me.” 

Zelda froze. 

Her breath stopped short against his skin. Her palm still pressed against his spine. He could feel her lean away from him. He could feel his blood turn to stone in his veins. For months he had kept that wish hidden. The desire to kiss her pressed against his heart, kept a secret from everybody. And now that he’d vocalised it there was no taking it back. 

“Link,” her voice was quiet, almost shy. Link dared not look at her, his eyes fixed on the burning torch in front of him. Maybe he could pretend that it had never happened! And then he could-

Her fingers gently held his chin, turning his head to face her. He tried to hide, to avert his gaze but he just couldn’t! Even hidden by shadows her eyes were so shockingly blue. 

And then she leaned in. 

Her nose bumped softly against his, her warm breath fanned over his chin. Link could feel his eyes close, lips parting slightly. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears as their lips finally met. It was only the lightest of touches, but it was enough to set a fire in his blood. He leaned in, desperate for more. His hand found its place on her cheek, his thumb caressing her skin as the candlelight had done months before. 

When the two broke apart, Link wasn’t aware of how much time had passed. Nor did he particularly care. He was too preoccupied with the feel of her hand against his jaw and her fingers running up his spine. He bumped his nose against hers playfully, his eyes falling to her smile. Large and toothy and perfect. 

“I promise I won’t be so reckless anymore,” he sighed, feeling his own smile grow to match hers, “if you promise to kiss me like that again.” 

Zelda appeared to take a moment to think about it. Her grin teasing as she tapped her chin with her finger. 

“It’s a deal,” a chaste kiss against his cheek, “but now I should be going, Goodnight Link.” Another kiss, this time to the tip of his nose. 

He barely had enough time to whisper back to her before she was gone. The pale silk of her nightgown trailing behind her.

With a resigned sigh, Link reached for his sword once more. He certainly was not going to get any sleep tonight. 

<><><>

She didn’t have to ask about the fifth scar. 

Her hand, pressed against his chest, pulled at the linen of his shirt. Short nails scratching his skin through the fabric. A rush of warmth washed over his body as he claimed her lips with his. Her soft moans sent a rush of blood to his head. 

He felt dizzy, light headed almost. The need to kiss every inch of her consumed him like fire. The desire to press against her, to lose himself in her embrace, drove him wild in the best of ways. He felt like each second was a battle for self control, and he was ready to wave that white flag. Desperate to submit. 

They fell backwards onto the sheets, Zelda’s hair fanning out around her like a halo. She was heavenly, angelic in a way words couldn’t describe, and she was his. 

Soft hands turned greedy, gentle kisses turned roush. Bites and pecks peppered his throat as desperate hands gripped her thighs hard enough to bruise. 

He muffled a groan against her hair as he settled between her legs. Her thighs wrapping around his back, her petticoats rucked up to her hips. A soft whimper left her lips. A silent plea kissed against his neck as her hands tugged at the hem of his shirt. 

Leaning back, he tugged the offending article of over his head. Throwing it to the side with a careless wave of his hand, he turned his eyes back to her. 

The look on her face stopped him in his tracks. 

Pain. Heartache. Guilt. Etched into her features. Tears pooled in her eyes. Her hand hovered in the air between them, inches away from his heart and the starburst scar over it. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, crystal tears sliding down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” he promised, pressing her hand against his heart. The steady drumbeat dancing under her fingers. “The chainmail caught it, I wasn’t hurt. It’s okay, Zelda.” 

He pressed kisses against her hair as her sobs grew louder. He murmured words of comfort, reassurance, and love into the air around them. _It’s alright, It was just a bublin, they can’t aim for shit. It’s alright Zelda. I’m safe, I’m okay, I love you._

She buried herself in him. Her face pressed into the crook of his neck, her arm wrapped around him like a vice. She kept her palm pressed over his heart, his hand over hers soothing in it’s familiarity. 

They held each other like that till morning. Neither willing to let go as she pressed apologises into his skin. 

<><><>

Link noticed the mark on her neck first. 

Then the one on her shoulder. 

Then her face. 

Her collar. 

Her ears. 

Her arms. 

Long, deep, lacerations. Relentless in their numbers, aggressive in their style. Powerful slashes against milk white skin. Deadly and familiar, because he knew those marks. He knew the weapon that caused them, the hand that dealt them. 

“I didn’t want you to find out like this.” 

He felt ill. His breaths catching, bile rising in his throat the longer he stared at her scars. Scars he was so intimately familiar with because he was the one who caused them. 

He wasn’t unfamiliar with scars, but looking at her he felt ashamed. 

“Why’d you hide them?” _Why’d you never tell me? Why did I have to find them like this? By accident as we got ready for bed?_

“You know how it is,” she was shaking, a false dead smile curling over her lips. “Appearances are everything here. It wouldn’t do to make people uncomfortable.” 

Sickness turned to anger. 

How dare he. How _DARE_ he! How dare he hold her in his arms! How dare he kiss her flesh, how dare he whisper words of adoration against her skin when HE was the one who hurt her! It was because of him that she was forced to hide behind unctions and pastes, to cast glamours over her skin for the sake of snobby nobles and gossiping dukes. It was because of him that she now led a life of secrets! How long has she agonized over him finding out? That night in the arena, their first kiss. She had covered herself from head to toe, hid in the shadows. Had he really been so close to her and not noticed? How could he have not noticed!?

The mark on her neck, deep and painful. He had aimed to decapitate. She would be dead if he hadn’t faltered last minute. 

Oh Spirits, he could have killed her. 

“Do they hurt?” he found himself asking. 

“Not anymore.” She sounded so… frightened. Had he frightened her? He could feel his heart twist and he wished that the bublin’s arrow had found its home there. 

“I’m sorry,” He choked, bile rising with each agonised heartbeat. 

“Don’t be,” her eyes grew watery. “You did what you had to do.” 

“I didn’t have to hurt you!” He cried, sickness and shame growing in the pit of his stomach. Why didn’t she hate him? 

“It was the only way to stop him.” 

He watched as she wrapped her arms around herself, knuckles turning white as she gripped the fabric of her chemise. “These marks are my fault.” 

His heart stopped dead in his chest. 

“How can you say something like that?” He wanted to scream, but the look in her eyes stole all breath from his lungs. Her false smile was gones, and in its place was only pain. 

“If I had chosen to fight instead of surrender, if I had risked my life the way you were forced to risk yours, maybe I could have spared you.” Her eyes turned hollow as she clung to herself. Bright blue growing dim with guilt and heartbreak. He felt her gaze trail over the bite on his neck, a wound that would have killed anyone else. “I deserve this,” she held her arms in front of her, watch the way the light danced across her own scars. “It’s my divine punishment.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about!?” He gasped, everything in his body compelling him to run to her, to take her in his arms. Even if guilt held him back. 

He reached out, ignoring the twist in his gut as he wrapped his hands around her wrists. He could feel her pulse hammer under his fingertips. “If you’d have fought you’d be dead like the rest of ‘em. You did what you had to do.” 

“And you paid the price!” She cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. She pulled roughly out of his grip, pressing her arms close to her chest as she folded in on herself. “You and hundreds of innocent people!” 

“You didn’t scar me! You ain’t the redead who bit me, you ain’t the bokoblin that cut me, you ain’t the wolfos that scratched me, or the bublin that fired an arrow at my heart!” He stepped closer, thanking whatever god of hers that was listening that she didn’t step away, that she let him put his hands on her shoulders. 

“I got these scars because I made mistakes,” He started, keeping his voice as soft as he could. She didn’t need a shouting match right now. “I wasn’t quick enough or careful enough,” a kiss pressed against her forehead. “None of this was your fault, Zelda.” 

“And these scars aren’t yours.” 

Her scars. He’d almost forgotten the damage he’d done. 

Dropping his hands from her skin, shame burning in his blood. “I wielded the blade,” he choked. An admission of guilt. 

“It wasn’t aimed at me,” she reasoned, her hand reaching out for him. “I don’t blame you, Link. I hold nothing but love for you. I should have told you sooner, but I didn’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry.” 

_Sorry? Love?_

How could she apologise at a time like this?! She was innocent!! 

“How can you love me? Zelda, I could have killed you!” He could see the blood dripping from his blade. Her body slumped in a pool of red. Pink skin turned a sickly green as dead golden eyes stared up at him. 

He could have killed her. 

“And I, you. I am not the only one who walked away from that battle with injuries.” He thought back to a scar on his bicep where her rapier has drawn blood. She hadn’t seen it surely? He’d hidden it well enough. “Ganon would have killed you by my hand, Link.” 

“That doesn’t make it any easier.” 

To blame _him,_ would be to shirk all responsibility Link felt. To blame _him_ would be to pretend that he had never taken up arms against his princess To pretend that he had never wounded her, shed her blood. To pretend that he hadn’t looked upon her face and aimed to kill. It may have been Ganon’s intent, but it was Zelda who took the blows. 

He was stuck. 

He wanted to free her from the burden he felt. The burden she had chosen to carry. The souls who had been lost as the first wave hit. The permanent reminders on their skin. Her _punishment._ As if someone so noble was deserving of punishment. 

“Do my scars upset you?” he asked, watching her expression out of the corner of his eye. 

“Yes… but not for the reason you think.” 

_Because you blame yourself._

“They don’t upset me.” He kept his eyes on the floor, away from her confused stare, away from his own guilt. He needed a clear head if he was going to get through this. 

“Every mark on my body has taught me something. It ain’t always been fun, but I’ve grown ‘cus of it. I’ve become who I am today, and I _like_ who I am today. Because this me… this me is someone who has been through hell and back, and he’s still standing. This me is someone who gets to know you. This me is someone who gets to love you. I wouldn’t change a damn thing because then, who would I be?” 

“Link…” a soft hand pressed against his arm. “You’d still be you. You have a good heart-”

“And so do you! You can’t blame yourself for my scars, Zelda.” And, building all the courage he had ever had, he turned as he pressed his palm to her cheek. His thumb grazing over a cut on her lip. “Not when I’d rather be with them than without.” 

“And you think it’s different for me?” She pressed her hand against his, holding it to her cheek. “Link, I don’t hide these scars because I’m ashamed of them. Appearance is everything here, you know that better than most. If they saw me like this… with these marks…” she swallowed, forcing a small smile to her face. “They would never take me seriously.” 

“Zelda…” _They’re not worth it_ , he wanted to say, _You’re better than the whole wretched lot ‘em._

“These scars,” she continued, running her thumb over his knuckles. “They remind me of everything I lost. The invasion was difficult for everyone, I know. But when I see these marks on my skin, I’m reminded of what I sacrificed. And what I gained. I know they hurt you, and I know it’s a lot to ask of you, but… when you look at these scars, please, don’t think about how they got there. Don’t think about that fight. Think about what they show.” 

“And what’s that?” 

And she smiled, brighter than the sun and the stars and the moon. Brighter than the spirits in their springs and the sacred light they protected. 

“They show that, despite everything, all of our losses and our injuries, we’re still standing. We’re still alive when that man tried to take everything from us.” 

And how could he refuse her when she looked at him like that? 

He was going to say as much, was going to act suave and calm and deliver some real cheesy line about never being able to turn down a beautiful woman. Something dumb to lighten the mood. Then she took his free hand in hers and pressed it to the scar on her neck. 

The skin, rough against his palm, reminded him of just how _real_ it was. How close they had both gotten to losing their lives and each other. And all he could choke out was a small, “I’m sorry.” 

“I am too,” she sniffed, holding back tears. “But it’s okay. I’m okay, I’m alive. I love you.” 

“And I love you.” he choked, replacing his palm with his lips, trailing kisses over her scars. He could feel his tears run hot down his cheeks, but as he wrapped his arms around her he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Spirits, I love you so so much.” 

<><><>

They lay facing each other, scars bared openly. Bodies wrapped in furs and silks, sweat slick with exhaustion. Matching smiles decorating their faces, and kisses littering their collars. 

Link pulled her close, his hand trailing down her spine and the countless scars found there. “You’re so beautiful” he sighed, pressing a lingering kiss against her forehead.

“I am, aren’t I?” 

“And modest too!” He laughed, tucking her hair behind her long pointed ear. “Everything I look for in a woman.” He stifled her laughter with a kiss, reveling in the feel of her smile against his. 

“I adore you,” She breathed as they separated. A large goofy grin on her lips, so different than the small smiles she gave at court. “I wish we could stay here forever” 

“You’re the Queen, you can do whatever you want,” He chuckled, lips ghosting over the apple of her cheek. “If you want to stay here, then who am I to deny you?” 

Her soft laughter echoed through the room like the romantic strings of a violin. Enchanting as an orchestra, a melodic symphony that pulled at his heart. 

“You make a valid point.” she gasped, words fading into a soft moan as his teeth trailed over the skin of her neck. Over the large scar that lived there. 

Months ago, he would have paused. Guilt and fear seeping into his bones at the very sight of twisted flesh. Memories of polished steel flying through the air, of metal hitting roughly against bone, and screams of agony ripping through the air. 

There were some days that were worse than others, days where the memories were too strong and they’d collapse into each other. Loving words pressed against their skin, prayers and apologies and assurances filling the air. But healing is not linear, and as bad as these days got they would never cancel out the good days. 

Good days like today. Wrapped in each other, tracing lines of gold. Precious metal swimming in their veins. Their scars becoming beautiful reminders of lessons they’d learned. 

Reminders of the lives they had lived, and the paths that led them to each other. 

_~Fin~_

**Author's Note:**

> HOLY SHIT I'M BACK?! It's been just under a year since I've really posted anything, I promise that Puppy Love: The Date is on it's way (just life get's hectic y'know) I really hope you guys enjoy this, I'm really proud of it. Also HUGE thank you to Mey and Fangirl for their edits and to Gigi for hyping me up. Also thanks to Matt for inspiring me through the first two sections and with conversations about DEEP LORE! 
> 
> If you're liking what I'm doing here feel free to check me out on Tumblr under the same name (I'm not there often but almost everything I've ever written for Zelink is on there) 
> 
> Thanks so much for your support guys, I couldn't have done it without you.


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